


Two For One (OR: A Vince in the Hand is Worth Two in the Tush)

by MamaZoom



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:39:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaZoom/pseuds/MamaZoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vince takes a potion which essentially clones him. I’m not going to try to fool any of you; there’s no plot to be had here. This is just a big-ass PWP fic that got way out of hand. Magical Mishap fics <i>are</i> my forte, y’know</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two For One (OR: A Vince in the Hand is Worth Two in the Tush)

Howard doesn’t think much of the loud bang that sounds from the bathroom. Vince has dropped things in the haste of getting ready to go out clubbing too many times to count. No. It’s the large cloud of gold smoke creeping out from under the door and wafting through the flat that makes him heft his pumpkin arse off the sofa with impressive speed.

 

“Vince! Vince, what’s going on in there?!” Howard yells, banging his fists on the door.

 

“I--I’m fine!” Vince squeaks out from the other side .

 

“What was that noise, then?” Howard asks, unconvinced.

 

“I dropped my collection of hair sprays.”

 

Howard crosses his arms over his chest, fighting the urge to knock the door off its hinges. But the thought of catching Vince in a lie proves to be much more tempting. “Yes. And the smoke?”

 

“I’ve taken up smoking?” Vince means it as a statement, but it comes out more like a question.

 

“Vince, open the door.”

 

The only response is an uncomfortably long pause and shuffling that Howard could swear sounds like two pairs of feet.

 

“Is Leroy in there with you?”

 

“No.”

 

“But there is someone else in there.”

 

“N-no.” Vince stutters.

 

“Vince! I can see two shadows under the door! There’s someone else in there with you!”

 

“Well, not exactly, yeah?”

 

Howard’s brow furrows with confusion. “What does that even mean?! There’s either someone else in there with you or there’s not!”

 

“Howard?” Vince asks sheepishly.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Don’t freak out, yeah?”

 

“Okay....”

 

Vince cracks the door enough to stick his head through. There’s nothing apparently wrong with him. It’s the same head he’s had forever. Howard starts to relax.

 

Until Vince’s head appears again, right above the first.

 

Howard opens his mouth to say something but before he can ask what exactly is going on, his eyes roll back into his head and he passes out.

  
  
  


*********

  
  
  


Naboo explains the purpose of a cloning potion in between pulls off the hookah, but Howard’s too dazed to really process the information being fed to him. Which might have a little to do with the two Vinces tangled up together in the armchair just to the left of him. Vince One is playing with Vince Two’s hair while Vince Two absentmindedly strokes the calve of Vince One’s boot.

 

Later, when the house is quiet and The Vinces are in bed, Howard will remember Naboo moaning about having to travel to Jupiter for the antidote to the potion.

  
  
  


*********

  
  
  


The day of and day after ‘the incident’, as Howard now refers to it in his mind, are still a blur. It’s the shock of it all. Day three is a bit better. He wakes to find Vince curled up on the settee like a sleepy kitten, and he smiles.

 

“Cup of tea?” he offers.

 

Vince nods, knuckling the sleep out of his eyes.

 

Howard puts on the kettle and retrieves the tea bags from the cupboard. He carefully scoops five teaspoons of sugar into Vince’s mug and turns around to find Vince Two sitting next to Vince One. While Vince One is wearing just his Rolling Stones pajama bottoms and nothing else, Vince Two is wearing one of Howard’s striped pajama tops and no bottoms. They are sitting practically in each others laps.

 

“Right, uh,” Howard starts, feeling the need to divert his gaze from the men--man?--on the sofa “Do I make two cups?”

 

The Vinces nod in unison, yawning. Each wrap their arms around the other.

 

Howard scoops five heaping spoonfuls of sugar into his own mug to take to the second Vince to arrive and sits down on the further end of the sofa.

 

“You ain’t gotta sit so far away, Howard.” Vince One, the one in the pajama bottoms, says suddenly. “We ain’t got nothing contagious.”

 

“I know,” Howard mumbles folding his hands in his lap “It’s just---I don’t know. Weird.”

 

Both Vinces laugh loudly, their upturned faces crinkled with joy. “Of course it’s weird, Howard!” Vince One shrieks in between laughs “It’s you and me, innit?!”

 

And for the first time since this whole ordeal began, Howard starts to relax.

  
  
  


***********

  
  
  


By day five, they all ease into a fairly comfortable routine. The three of them decided on day four to call ‘the original Vince’ Vince and clone Vince ‘Noir’. Vince would only wear Cuban heels. Noir would only wear Chelsea boots. At night, Noir will pull his hair back in a bun, and Vince will leave his loose. This has made things slightly less confusing.

 

Howard learns Vince and Noir share the same thoughts, dreams, and memories. If it wasn’t for their little boot arrangement, it would be easy for even Howard to confuse the two.

 

The only thing Howard still finds unsettling about the situation is the way Vince and Noir are so affectionate towards each other. The continuous cuddling, the hand holding at the dinner table, the sheepish grins they give each other as they help each other get dressed in the morning. Vince hasn’t even been out clubbing since the unexpected arrival of Noir. He’s just been so wrapped up in, well, himself essentially. Which is to be expected.

 

But still, something feels a bit off to Howard. He won’t know exactly how off until later that night.

  
  
  


**********

  
  
  


Howard wakes in the night to the sound of shuffles and breathless giggles. He stares at the moonlit wall, willing himself to feel sleepy again. It doesn’t work. Every night since Noir arrived has been the same. Vince and Noir go to bed two hours earlier than Howard and are still awake at four in the morning. They sing and talk and plan outfits for each other and try to tell long stories with twists the other won’t see coming, which never works since they share the same thoughts.

 

Howard’s annoyance wanes a bit when he hears something that sounds like a sob. Concerned, he turns over onto his other side, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light of the room.

 

He’s not ready for the sight that greets him.

 

Noir is straddling Vince’s lap, the head of his erection peeking out from beneath the pajama top he’s adopted as his own. His head is thrown back--a look of pure ecstasy on his face as Vince’s hand moves slowly between his legs.

 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous like this.” Vince breathes, caressing Noir’s thigh with his free hand. His other hand moves faster over Noir’s cock--thumbing messily over the head.

 

Noir groans and leans back further, grasping Vince’s knees for support “I’m gonna---”

 

“I know,” Vince says hoarsely with a grin on his face that can only be termed ‘devilish’. “Do it. Come for me.”

 

Noir makes a desperate sound through clenched teeth, his brow furrowed and face red. His hips snap back and forth, fucking Vince’s fist in a graceless rhythm and he’s coming with a sob over Vince’s hand in thick spurts.

 

Noir slumps forward with a satisfied “Ahhhh,” and tries to catch his breath.

 

Howard knows he should have turned away when he first realized what was going on and that the very least he can do to try to right this moral wrong is to turn away now, but he can’t. The sight before him is just too beautiful and wrong and perverse and captivating that he can’t help but to wonder what’s going to happen next.

 

He gets his answer soon enough.

 

Noir shimmies down Vince’s body and leans down to pull at the drawstrings of his pajama bottoms with his teeth. Howard watches as Vince raises his hips to allow Noir to pull them down. Noir tosses them to the side as Vince spreads his legs wide--shameless. He’s been hard for a while--his cock straining up towards the slight curve of his belly, glistening with precome in the dim light.

 

Noir ducks his head, swirling his tongue around the head of Vince’s cock, then points it and runs it wetly over the slit.

 

“Oh, come on, c’mon please!” they say in unison--Noir mocking affectionately, Vince desperate and serious. That same devilish smile flashes again, only this time on Noir’s face, right before he sinks his mouth around Vince’s cock.

 

Vince gasps and turns his head to the side--his fingers tangling in Noir’s hair. Howard can’t take his eyes off the look on Vince’s face--filthy and glorious. His eyes travel back and forth between Vince’s face to the fluid motion of his hips--the silky skin of his cock moving in and out of Noir’s obedient mouth.

 

When he looks back up, Vince’s eyes are locked onto his. Before either of them realize what’s happening, Vince’s back arches skywards and he grits his teeth as he comes in hot spurts down Noir’s throat.

  
  
  


**********

  
  
  


The next morning, Howard tries to act normal--tries to fall back into the routine the three of them have developed. He wakes up an hour earlier than Vince and Noir, showers, and gets dressed. He makes tea for the two sleepy heads sitting on the settee. They cuddle and sip from their mugs, quietly murmuring to each other as Howard makes breakfast.

 

Howard’s scrambling the eggs when he suddenly feels a thin, lithe body press up against him from behind. “I know you were watching us last night” Vince purrs into his ear as he wraps his arms around Howard’s waist.

 

“What?” Howard asks panicked, the hand holding the whisk goes still.

 

Vince’s left hand ghosts up Howard’s side underneath his top. The shiver it elicits from him is unexpected.

 

“I saw you,” Vince whispers, moving his hand up higher--across Howard’s stomach in a vertical line to toy with a nipple.

 

“Vince?” Howard asks hoarsely, barely above a whisper.

 

“Yes?”

 

“The sausages are going to burn,” Howard cringes at how nervous he sounds--and by how turned on he feels.

 

Howard feels a giggle ghost past the skin of his neck. “Then turn them off, ya bumbaclaat!”, his tone of voice is affectionate and teasing. The same tone he uses with Noir.

 

“Besides,” Vince says in a soft voice, his right hand moving down to palm the bulge in Howard’s cords, “We’ve got something much more interesting than breakfast for you.”

 

Howard’s breath hitches--his hips involuntarily arching forwards into the touch. “Vince, I---”

 

“It’s okay. We’ll take care of you, yeah?” Vince rocks his hips in time with the movements of his hand.

 

Howard’s heart races double time. “We?”

 

“Uh huh,” Vince’s fingers make quick work of Howard’s belt. Once it’s undone, Vince has room to slide his hand into Howard’s trousers--stroking him through the soft cotton of his boxers. “Me, you and Noir. It’ll be genius.”

 

“I don’t know---”

 

Howard knows it’s probably futile to feign hesitance about the situation when Vince can feel every twitch and pulsation of his cock. The friction is gone though. The hand that was in his trousers is now clasping his own hand gently--tugging him in the direction of the bedroom.

 

Noir is waiting for them on the bed. Howard hadn’t even heard him leave the front room. Vince nods at him--a signal. Noir leans over to press play on the stereo between the beds. It’s Gary Numan.

 

“Of course.” Howard mumbles to himself. The Vinces giggle.

 

Vince leaves Howard standing next to the door and sits down next to Noir on the bed. He keeps his eyes locked onto Howard as he brushes the fringe out of Noir’s face and leans in to kiss him. It’s slow and deep. Something private Howard feels both wrong and honored to be privy to. Vince’s hands move to Noir’s shoulders, peeling his jumpsuit down. He kisses a wet trail down Noir’s neck to his chest. The noises Noir is making sends another rush of blood to Howard’s cock. He feels dizzy. It’s so much different from last night. He’s a part of this now.

 

Howard takes a few steps forward and drops to his knees in front of Vince, his hand reaching out to grasp the ankle of Vince’s Cuban heel. Vince peels his shirt over his head and lets Noir take the control in order to watch Howard more fully.

 

Howard’s running calloused fingers over the smooth leather covering Vince’s calve--kissing along his shin.

 

Vince moans at the sight, pushing Noir away to slide off the bed and straddle Howard’s left leg. Noir follows him, straddling Howard’s right. Howard’s head is swimming as two identical mouths bite and lick parallel paths down his neck.

 

Howard gasps. A very adept hand has found it’s way into his open trousers and past the waistband of his boxers. He watches with heavily lidded eyes as Vince pulls him free, Noir’s fingers linking with his around the shaft of Howard’s cock. Howard hisses a breath in through his clenched teeth, bucking up into their joined hands.

 

“Don’t come yet, ‘Oward,” Vince breathes against his left ear.

 

“We’ve got something better than this planned for your,” Noir finishes the statement in a humid explosion against the shell of Howard’s right ear.

 

Howard digs his fingertips into the thighs on either side of him, letting out a shaky breath. “M’not sure how long I can last,” he mumbles, face reddening. He sees the two men--man? It’s all getting so confusing--exchange a quick look.

 

Twin thumbs swipe at the head of Howard’s cock, dragging a moan from deep in his chest. “That’s alright, Howard,” Vince soothes, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Howard’s neck as the speed of his and Noir’s hands increase, “Come now; You’ll last longer later.”

 

Howard immediately starts to panic internally. What if this is all some sick joke? What if, as soon as he lets go, they start to laugh at him? He can see it in his mind’s eye; twin Vinces with eyes squeezed shut, heads back, throats open with hearty guffaws.

 

Howard feels Noir lean in, breaking Howard’s train of thought with a wet whispered secret against his ear, “We were thinking about you last night,” Noir breathes, his and Vince’s linked hands still working Howard’s cock, “Vince often thinks about you when he’s alone. Just this morning in the shower, even. He whimpered your name when--”

 

But whatever Noir is saying is suddenly drowned out by the sound of Howard, unravelling like a ball of yarn--a groan tearing from his throat as his release seeps between the fingers linked around him. He watches, dazed, as Noir extends his sticky fingers to Vince, who does the same. The two make a show of licking each other’s hands clean, moaning softly around each finger.

 

Vince laughs and mutters a soft, “Shut up”, at a smirking Noir.

 

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Howard pants, loosening his grip on their thighs.

 

The two men stand up on wobbly legs, allowing Howard to better stretch, his knee joints popping loudly.

 

“Do what?” Vince asks as he and Noir help Howard to his feet.

 

“That....that thing! Where you talk without saying anything. Its putting me off,” he mumbles to the carpet, eyes averted.

 

“M’sorry, Howard. I don’t even realize when we do it, yeah? I’ll try not to anymore.” Vince attempts to appease him, maneuvering him into a sitting position on the bed.

 

“What were you talking about?”

 

Vince and Noir exchange a look before Vince, blushing and refusing to meet Howard’s gaze, answers, “‘Bout how you taste better than I’d imagined.”

 

“Christ,” Howard groans. His head is spinning. Just last week, things had been completely normal, the two of them bickering over what to have for tea or what to watch on their night off and now... Well, now Howard wasn’t 100% sure what was happening, if he were to be honest, but he definitely liked it, confusing as it was.

 

“Which one of us?” Noir asks.

 

Howard realizes Vince and Noir have been discussing what seems to be a very important matter while he was mulling this whole situation over in his head. They have their identical heads pressed together, mumbling low, although audibly. Vince bites his thumb nail, looks indecisive for a moment, and then finally answers.

 

“You. Because I, y’know. I wanna see.”

 

Before Howard can even comprehend what’s happening, Noir is straddling his lap. “Yeah?”, he asks Vince outloud for Howard’s benefit. Vince nods emphatically, resting his back against the headboard. He’s got his eyes locked onto Howard’s, and Howard thinks this must be the most attentive he’s ever seen Vince.

 

And then Noir’s mouth is on his and there is no more thought, just the feel of Noir’s tongue sweeping gently across his bottom lip, coaxing them apart. Tentatively, Howard brings his hands up to Noir’s hips, gripping lightly, their mouths still moving in tandem. He moves a palm down and, experimentally, kneads at the swell of Noir’s bottom. He hears a moan in stereo and breaks the kiss to look at Vince.

 

“Can--can you feel this?”, Howard asks, giving Noir’s arse another, slightly firmer, squeeze.

 

Vince bites his lip, looking sheepish, and nods. “Yeah. Only it’s like...muted. Not as intense as really feeling it.”

 

Howard opens his mouth to marvel at this, which Noir takes as his cue to resume kissing. He tastes like toothpaste and sweet tea, and Howard finds himself wondering if Vince tastes the same. Dimly, he hears Vince whine at the other end of the bed, and he cuts his small eyes to the side to peek at him.

 

Vince sits red-cheeked, legs akimbo, the heel of his hand pressed against his erection, “Howard,” he breathes shakily, “We look well sexy together.”

 

“Yeah?” he mumbles against Noir’s lips, unable to tear his eyes away from Vince.

 

“Yeah. No wonder people think I’m your girlfriend.”

 

“Vince, I don’t really think that’s why pe--Oh,” Howard’s sentence is cut short at Noir latches his mouth onto his collar bone, sucking and biting.

 

“Awright, piss off. I wanna have a go,” Vince huffs, attempting to push Noir out of the way as he crawls over to the two of them. Noir whines like a spoiled child, clearly not wishing to be stopped, but slides off Howard’s lap anyway. There’s a fair bit of awkward shuffling before everyone’s settled once more--Vince now straddling Howard’s lap, while Noir has taken his new position, kneeling behind Howard.

 

“Alright?” he asks Howard, leveling his eyes at him.

 

“More than,” Howard watches as a smile spreads Vince’s lips. He runs his hands up Howard’s stomach to his the top button of his shirt, starting to thread them through.

 

“I’d say. You’re losing your virginity in a threesome. A threesome with two Vince Noirs, I might add! That’s gotta be someone’s fantasy. Genius!”

 

Howard feels inclined to argue out of sheer habit, but realizes Vince is probably right. He’s seen the way the Camden elite eye him greedily on the rare occasions they hit the town together.

 

Vince dips his head forward, pressing a quick kiss to Howard’s mouth before moving to form a trail down his jaw to his shoulder, pulling a moan from Howard. He feels Noir strip the open shirt from his frame from behind, running his short, blunt nails teasingly along his back and sides. Tentatively, Howard brings his hands up to stroke broad palms over the soft skin of Vince’s torso--over his flat stomach, up the ladder of his ribs, only stopping to brush shaky fingertips over his nipples. He’s rewarded with a gasp from each Vince on either side of him.

 

“What, um...what do we do now?”

 

He sees Vince glance meaningfully at Noir over Howard’s shoulder, and asks,“How <i>do</i> we do this?” Before the question is fully out of his mouth, though, Howard sees the look on his face go from confusion to nervous relief--his question having already been answered silently.

 

He rounds his eyes back onto Howard, tugging at his arm as he moves to stand. “Get up there,” he motions towards the head of the bed, “and enjoy the show.”

 

“The show?” Howard questions, crab-walking backwards, crumpling the duvet in his wake. “Won’t I get to...you know?”

 

“Oh, you’ll get to join in, Howard,” Noir giggles as Vince lays himself prone at his kneeling form, “don’t you worry ‘bout it.”

 

Howard watches as Vince kicks his boots off and his hands make quick work of unfastening his jeans, peeling them down his legs slowly. There’s a damp patch on his light blue pants, which he fingers briefly with a soft whimper before discarding those as well. He has to help Noir out of the Joan Jett jumpsuit, stripping it from his lithe body like a second skin. It seems to Howard the bottle of lube came out of nowhere, and it occurs to him they must’ve planned this, either some time in the night or before they crawled out of bed.

 

Vince angles himself so Howard’s met with the sight of his body laid out before him, legs spread shamelessly. He feels a new wave of heat jolt through him, roiling in his stomach. He wants to lean forward and cover Vince’s body with his own and...do what he’s not exactly sure, but he craves the proximity and the heat and the feel of Vince beneath him. But before he can begin to move forward, Noir is there at Vince’s side, fingers slick and glistening in the weak morning light.

 

Vince pulls his knees up, his eyes locked on Howard’s face. Howard’s unsure where to settle his own eyes, which seem to move of their own accord, shifting intermittently from Vince’s face to Noir’s hand, which has settled now between Vince’s thighs. He hears Vince emit a tiny gasp, his body tensing for a second before a smile spreads his lips and he says, to Howard, “S’cold,” before relaxing again.

 

It’s difficult for him to tell from this angle, but he’s pretty sure Noir’s finger is now fully inside Vince and the realization makes Howard both inexplicably hard and like he wants to launch into a lecture about sanitation, but he bites his tongue and watches in wide-eyed silence.

“Pay close attention, ‘Oward,” Vince bites out as a second finger is added into the equation, “because I’m gonna be doin’ this to you in a minute.” This statement is delivered as blithely as a takeaway order.

 

“Me?!”

 

“Feels better’n it look.” Vince breathes, pushing his hips down onto Noir’s fingers. Howard can just make out through a curtain of black tresses the look on concentration etched on Noir’s face as he goes about preparing Vince; Brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, tongue wedged firmly at the corner of his lips.

 

“S’good, s’fine,” Vince half-huffs, half-whines at Noir, batting his hand away impatiently, “Don’t wanna wait anymore and I still gotta take care of Howard.”

 

Vince crawls awkwardly toward him and starts scrabbling at the fastenings of his cords. His lips catch the corner of Howard’s mouth clumsily before reconnecting with more assurance, lapping greedily at his bottom lip until he allows him admittance. Hands plunge hastily into his boxers, one curling around his cock, the other palming gently at his sack. His head falls back heavily against the wooden bed head with a <i>thunk</i>, and over Vince’s head, he sees Noir watching them intently, a hand loosely stroking his own cock.  

 

“M’gonna make you feel so good, ‘Oward,” Vince pants wetly into the crook of Howard’s neck. Howard can only answer with a groan as Vince awkwardly pushes him to lay flat on the mattress and settles between his legs, pulling what little clothing remains from his body. He hasn’t the time to feel embarrassed before Vince’s cool, slick finger is stroking over his entrance--his hand on his thigh in an attempt to steady him.

 

“Just relax, Howard,” he breathes soothingly, finger still stroking slow and gentle. Noir joins them, laying almost curled around Vince, his face nuzzling Howard’s hip. He watches the top of Noir’s head shift positions, and feels his crooked nose trace the curve of his hipbone. “Tha’s it,” Vince reassures, the tip of his finger breaching him, “Tha’s it.”

 

Noir drops feather-light kisses along Howard’s length, and Howard finds his fingers moving of their own accord to tangle in his mop of hair. He feels the ghost of a chuckle alight on his damp flesh and hears a rather unmanly whimper escape his own treacherous lips. The feel of Vince’s finger entering him carries with it only a slight sting, which he can barely concentrate on with Noir’s lips slowly caressing the head of his cock--rolling the foreskin up and down.

 

“M-more?” Howard somehow manages to choke out.

 

“Which one of us?” Vince grins.

 

“Either?” Howard’s fingers tighten in Noir’s hair as the vibrations of a chuckle buzzes around him. He can feel Vince pull out almost entirely, before fitting the blunt tip of a second finger alongside the first. Howard wills himself to relax, to concentrate almost entirely on the feel of Noir’s mouth moving lower now, tonguing at his sack. It feels to Howard like both men are touching him everywhere at once, the sensations too much and both not nearly enough. He can feel Vince’s fingers filling him and separating to better stretch him and the action triggers a realization in Howard’s mind about what exactly is going to happen.

 

Vince’s fingers stroke over a spot inside of Howard that causes him to raise his hips off the mattress. Noir giggles, moving once more to nuzzle at Howard’s hip. His hand curls languidly around Howard’s erection, stroking unhurriedly. Vince, meanwhile, seems to be using all his willpower to keep himself from stopping before Howard is truly ready. He takes his time, pushing in and out at a slow and steady pace until he feels he can safely add another finger.

 

“I’m gonna add one more, alright, Howard?” he asks softly, stilling his fingers. Howard gasps his consent,  canting his hips down onto Vince’s motionless hand. Vince smirks, lines up three fingers, and sinks them into Howard slowly. He waits a few moments, allowing Howard to adjust, before asking, “How’s it feel?”

 

“Full,” Howard chokes out, clenching softly around him. He sees Noir and Vince exchange a silent look. They both look, Howard decides, thoroughly debauched; eyes dark and glassy, lips wet and swollen, faces flushed, hair a mess. His fingers curl into Noir’s soft tresses, his other hand reaching out to wrap around Vince’s arm. “Want you. Want you both,” he begs, although it occurs to him he has no actual idea what he’s asking for, only that it should be given to him now, whatever it may be.

 

He whimpers feebly at how empty he feels when Vince extracts his fingers from him. Noir is sitting up now, crawling down towards the foot of the bed. Howard watches him with mild confusion as Vince lays down next to him, pressing his body into his damp skin. He tucks one of Howard’s wayward curls behind his ear. “‘Oward?”

 

“Yes, Vince?” Howard’s voice is barely a strained whisper.

 

Vince kisses along his shoulder, his breath tickly and hot as he hums, “I want you inside of me.”

 

“Christ, Vince,” Howard groans, the confession shooting straight to his cock. Vince rolls onto his back, wriggling in the middle of the bed until his comfortable.

 

“C’mon, ‘Oward,” he gestures for Howard, who, on wobbly limbs, covers his slight body with his own. Vince trails his hand down Howard’s side to between his thighs, grasping his cock. He brings his legs up on either side of Howard, hooking the heels of his feet in the slight dip of Howard’s hips, until his knees are almost pressed into the mattress. Vince lines him up, giving him a gentle squeeze. “M’ready for you, ‘Oward.”

 

“Wh-what about him?” Howard jerks his head in Noir’s general direction.

 

A lazy smile spreads Vince’s lips. “Well, I was thinkin’, yeah? That once you’re...y’know, he could be doin’ the same to you.”

 

“I...oh.” He cranes his neck, looking over his shoulder at Noir, whose looking back at him with such hunger in his eyes it’s almost audible in the quiet of their room. It occurs to Howard that he’s never seen anyone look at him like that, and yet there, hovering on the foot of the bed, is his best friend--or a close facsimile thereof--waiting for permission to devour him. Howard licks his lips nervously, and after just a moment’s hesitation says to Noir, “You...you first.”

 

Noir grins brightly, knee-walking up the bed until he’s behind Howard’s bent form, running his slightly sweaty palms over his back.

 

“Will it hurt?” Howard asks, bracing his forearms on either side of Vince’s torso.

 

“It’ll sting just a bit at first,” Vince breathes, leaning up to lick a droplet of sweat off Howard’s chest, “But it’ll feel genius before you know it.”

 

Howard hears the click of the lube bottle’s cap behind him. A thick trickle of cool gel hits his tailbone and he gasps, feeling it make its trail downwards. Noir’s hand grasps his right arse cheek, pulling him open, and suddenly the blunt tip of his cock is nudging against him. He hears Noir make an appreciative noise behind him before breathing, “Relax, Howard.”

 

Howard lets his head drop forward onto Vince’s chest, groans against his skin as Noir pushes in slowly, that stretch and the feeling of fullness back. Vince’s fingers are in his hair, gently threading their way through the tresses, and he can feel Noir’s thumbs rubbing small circles into the skin of his hips where he’s gripping him.

 

“Now you, Howard,” Vince breathes, canting his hips upwards.

 

Balancing precariously on one incredibly shaky arm, Howard reaches down and lines himself up, pushing deliberately in. The heat and the pressure is incredible, and Howard has to bite hard on the insides of his cheeks to keep from coming apart at the seams. It seems to Howard time comes to a grinding halt as he wills his breathing to become more even--for his body to not be so overwhelmed with the sensations of both being filled and being engulfed so perfectly. After what feels like an eternity, he feels Noir shift slightly inside of him.

 

“You can move, y’know, Howard,” he breathes, before adding, “Just follow my lead, yeah?”. He pulls out a bit and pushes back in languidly.

 

Howard’s head falls forward once more, a shaky exhalation escaping his lips. Experimentally, he mimics the motion Noir’s hips made with his own and watches in amazement as Vince responds, sucking his lower lip between his teeth, his brow furrowed as he rocks his hips to meet Howard’s. “Tha’ it, Howard. More,” he encourages.

 

Emboldened, Howard pulls out almost entirely--feeling Noir sinking deeper inside him--before thrusting fluidly into Vince. The three moan in unison and it makes Howard’s head swim. He feels the fingers gripping his hips tighten their hold, and watches as Vince reaches to clutch hard at his shoulders.

 

“Sh-shit, ‘Oward,” he swears up at him, hips rocking to seek out the rhythm, “I-I can feel you everywhere.”

 

Howard wants to concur--to let Vince know in no uncertain terms that he, too, can feel Vince absolutely over, around and in every inch of him--but the only thing that leaves his mouth is a strangled sob as he continues to rock his hips, fucking Vince and himself with each steady motion. Each of his limbs are shaking almost uncontrollably, his heart hammering wildly at his ribcage. He tries to keep his mind off the voices--voice?--panting his name in stereo, two pairs of identical lips spilling forth filth and praises as he attempts to last as long as physically possible.

 

“M’so close,” Howard’s not sure who is whining, maybe Vince. Maybe Noir. Perhaps both. Either way, Howard answers with a partially stifled, “Good”.

 

His faces is pressed firmly into the slick flesh of Vince’s chest as his hips start to lose their rhythm, each stroke deep but uneven. He could feel his release building like a tidal wave threatening to become a tsunami. Noir’s hips slam into him, rocking him forward as that spot inside him is hit over and over and Howard finds himself sucking the flesh at the crook of Vince’s neck into his mouth and biting down on it to keep himself from screaming as he flies apart.

 

He’s vaguely aware of nonsensical babble being shouted on either side of him as he’s buffeted to and fro by two pairs of rolling and canting hips--riding his orgasm out on the crazed movements of two people at the peak of their own frenzy. Howard attempts to not completely crush Vince with his body weight as he and Noir ride out the aftershocks. He’s taken by surprise by the playful slap that lands firmly on his backside when Noir pulls out, and can’t help but to laugh as best he can as he rolls his exhausted frame off of Vince.

 

Howard can feel a peculiar seeping from a place that should never, ever seep and makes a face as he realizes it’s a mixture of lubricant and Noir’s release; the realization making him feel as though this whole sex thing might be a touch more inelegant than his secret stash of romance novels lead him to believe. Vince rolls onto his side, curling himself around Howard to nuzzle his left shoulder. Howard reaches a curious arm around to feel and--yes--Vince is also leaking--a fact that makes Howard both nauseous and awed.

 

Noir grabs Vince’s duvet and pulls it over the three of them, settling in to snuggle into Howard’s right side. Howard’s eyelids are already drooping, totally spent despite having only woken up a couple of hours ago.  He feels Noir press sloppy kisses against the skin of his shoulder and the side of his neck. He wraps sore arms around both Vince and Noir, too tired even to wonder at what’s just happened. He’s seconds away from dropping off until he hears Vince’s sleepy voice creeping through the edges of his oblivion.

 

“Howard?”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“I was thinking, yeah?”

 

“Congratulations.” He smirks as he feels a good-natured slap land on his stomach.

 

“I was thinking, yeah, that when Naboo gets back with the antidote that it might be fun to try this the other way ‘round, yeah?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Howard peeks at him through one eye.

 

“There’s still some of that cloning potion left.” Vince grins wickedly.

 

Howard pauses for a moment, considering, and says, “Can do, Little Man, can do.”

 

“Genius.”

 


End file.
